The Lost Primarchs
by Skepsis Forever
Summary: My take on the Lost Primarchs. Stranded outside their birth Galaxy, created to be conquerors, will they fight for humanity and the Imperium, or will they end what their traitorous brothers started?


Since the beginning of what humanity has counted as the 30th millenium of its existence as an evolving creature, one question plagued the thoughts and lips of many members of its race, despite the dangers of voicing such concerns. Primarchs and scholars alike have interpreted, weaved, fabricated, guessed or even got right without knowing such a primordial answer for their world.

What was the fate of the Primarchs numbered II and XI, missing from worship in the Imperial Faith or acknowledged by Imperial Truth?

What complicates matters is that the truth is different, depending on the Universe. In one they were traitors, in another they were unacknowledged saviours, in others yet the simple answer is that they were never found and always awaited.

And in another, there was a missing pedestal for XXI.

* * *

Khar, like his other lost brothers, although unbeknownst to him, landed on a planet outside from his home galaxy. A desolate dustball that had dragged all manner of life to it to create spaceports by those stranded there by the Warp Storm they were enveloped. Creatures from space and time that had the audacity to use the Sea of Souls as a gateway through space payed for their hubris and lack of respect for the True Gods and were thrown on a barren, unfamiliar land.

But even here life prospers, in spite of the harsh conditions. So is the Will of the Gods.

Chaos Bands form on one side, attacking, conquering and enslaving all in their path. Khornites clash with Tzeentchian witches, each eager to prove their worth to uncaring lords. Plague Bearers roam the plains and deserts, trying to spread the Gifts their Papa has so gleefully imparted on them.

Slaanesh cults build great cities of pleasure and beauty, while Khornates build fortresses lined with the heads of their strongest foes. Nurglites turn fertile lands into marshes, while Tzeentchians wonder the lands, ever attempting to change the fates of those around them.

But for all the madness, there is also sanity, for how can Chaos be chaotic without some measure of order to balance it and give it appeal, disgust and all the other reactions?

The truly lucky ones that land on this planet that has so many names, ranging from Hell, to what some may be translated from dialects as "The Place Where Gods Throw Their Junk" to "[One More] Realm of Chaos", are the ones that arrive by ship, or in any case come across a worthy space-faring vessel that they can repair and take them away as fast as possible. Others however "make the best of it" by simply settling down, if lucky next to a river or a forest, or who go to the Manufactorums or mines strangely enough still hardly touched by Chaos to earn their food, prefabricated as it may be, in hard earnest work, and hope they not be in the way of a Chaos tribe's raid.

It was on the boundaries of a forest and a desert where Khar's pod landed. As chance would have it, if one would not have knowledge of the Changers of Ways, a cabin lay close to the forest for cover, yet near enough to the desert for its inhabitants to scavange what raiders may leave off or the dead. Though not killers themselves, they were not bleeding hearts either and had little pity for the filthy xeno.

They were also human. They had been aboard a colonizing vessel that had been lost to the warp, never to be heard of by Imperial scholars again. After crash-landing, the survivors had discovered their ship's systems were damaged beyond repair. Searching their surrounding and ascertaining knowledge of the maddened feudal world they were on, most went their separate ways. Some of the strongest joined the Khornate camps, most of the women joined the Slaaneshians where they only had to give their bodies in return for comfort and warm meals, while others decided to face the wastes and make their living in any hospitable place they may find.

Jouie and Jaques were such a couple, having found a good place from where to scavenge goods and trade them with the workers of a nearby Manufactorum. Though Jaques was strong in his own right at his 27 years and Jouie was pretty by many accounts as a blonde of 23, the couple did not follow their fellows' paths. Although they did not believe the Emperor to be of divine origin as many had whispered around them, they had their own morals and falling into the bloodthirsty raiders or the amoral rich in their marble, gold and magicks towers did not suit them. They had left their barren homeworld for a better place, and they were decided to find it together, even if the conditions here were harsher than they were promised when they left the Imperium.

Unfortunately, either as a result of the storm or had it always been this way, one of them was infertile and they could not give birth to children, as great as their love for each other was, and neither was willing to discover by any means which one of them was. After all, they had been in this together, and if whatever Gods were laughing at their lacks wished it to be this way, they would spit on their faces by remaining together.

That day they had seen the "comet" falling, though in truth the inhabitants of the planets were no stranger to them, and indeed knew that most were in fact crashed ships or debris. If after millennia of a slow descent from orbit, or merly minutes after taking orbit after being thrown out by the warp storm, they couldn't know yet. Still, they went to investigate, Jaques carrying a rifle in his hands and having an axe that he used to build their home and chop down trees on his belt, while Jouie held tight the lasgun she had scavenged from a similar crash. They were into open space now, approaching the possibly non-natural desert dune on which the object had landed. It was a risk, but it was one more part of their choice to create their own future with their own hands. They had scavenged quite useful parts in the past, trading some even for a rough terrain vehicle some time ago, though it hardly worked nowadays. They also had hidden pouches on their persons with scavenged weapons from human-made to obvious xeno manufactoring. Whatever could be said if there was an ambush, it wouldn't be that they died from lack of bullets or weapons to fire. In truth, they weren't forced to give anything they had found to the Manufactorum to melting, repurposing or its members' own use, but hording it all would both draw attention to their location and would be impractical. After all, why keep it when you don't know what to do with it and some guy - or alien - is willing to pay you for getting it off your hands?

As they approached, they saw the object was a pod, damaged from possibly tumbling through the warp, the hallmark vicious claws that were present on much of the falling debris on the planet obviously scratched on the objects. However, instead of sinking into the sand, it hovered gently above it, eliciting a careful smile from both of them. Such a technology could bring them a hefty price if they could steer it to the Manufactorum and the Mechanicus obsessed with new technologies, be they of human, xeno or warp design. And if it was an escape pod, well, they would try to reason with its occupant. They were not cold blooded murderers, though they would defend themselves if he/she/it became hostile, but they had experience in both good deals and bad ones, and knew how to explain to any poor creature that landed on this wretched planet of their poor luck and that having some credits or tradebles on one's person would do to change the balance much between survival and lack thereof.

As they approached, as if sensing their presence (though most likely their species), the pod opened, revealing a very young boy inside, maybe no older than a few months old, though well built. The two "farmers" looked at each other, then made their way carefully to him, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Jouie finally put her lasgun on her belt's holster and took the boy in her arms, feeling him heavy, but strong. He moved a hand to her, eyes and body language secure, and grabbed her arm and squeezed a little, though she felt it. He didn't let go, though she didn't feel uncomfortable by his touch, and she suspected if she tried to pry him off without his approval, he'd remain with some flesh in his hands.

Though slightly perturbed by her thoughts and his strength, she went into "mama mode", asking him "What's your name, little one? What's your name, huh? Huh?"

A low growl echoed interestingly enough around the empty desert, making Jouie and Jaques look around for some predator. When their minds finally recognized the sound, they realized the boy had answered, and that the sound seemed to resemble "Khar".

"Khar?" wondered Jaques aloud. "That's a... peculiar name for a child." The now-named Khar nodded once, strongly though not forcefully, as to confirm it. The rough features of his face told of a warrior "hiding" behind that face, and the eyes thirsting for blood, though he had not yet made a threatening move towards the two. Though they were no strangers of warp beasts and corrupted children, the couple wouldn't give up Khar just because of his... peculiarities. They had been blessed with a child they'd always wanted, and they would do their best to raise him right, to take care of him in this blasted wasteland, so maybe, in the future, he'd take care of them. And Jouie, with the thought of a mother, looked up at the stars, and thought, "maybe of this world too".

* * *

**Author's Note:** I actually planned to put all of Khar's life in a first chapter, but I found myself being pulled in by (the necessity of) details in the story. For those who follow my other stories: don't worry, I haven't given them up, and I plan to wrap this one up in at several chapters at most.


End file.
